Awry
by mossley
Summary: One of Grissom's experiments gets a little out of hand. My entry to this week's Unbound Improv Challenge. First and last lines are provided.


**Awry  
Summary:** One of Grissom's experiments gets a little out of hand. My entry to this week's Unbound Improv Challenge. First and last lines are provided, with a 1,000 word limit.   
**Spoilers:** A brief season 3 mention.  
**Rating:** PG.  
**A/N:** Thanks to Burked, Ann and Marlou for looking over this one.  
**Disclaimer: **I have nothing to do with CSI, probably much to their relief.

* * *

"Because you're the cute CSI, Nicky," the drunken Greg explained. 

"Dude, you did not just say that," the aforementioned cute CSI groused.

"Yes, I did. It's true!"

"Knock it off!"

"But you _are_ the cute one."

"Cut it out! You're sick!"

"No," Greg insisted, weaving as he pulled himself up to his full height before collapsing back in his chair. "I'm the skinny-pick … the gunny-pig … I'm the test subject. I'm gonna be famous. I'm gonna go down in history."

"You're going to be history," Nick huffed, cursing the string of events that led to his current predicament.

Earlier that night, a young man had gone on a mini-rampage through one of the off-Strip casinos. His blood-alcohol level wasn't that high, and the bartender said he hadn't had much to drink.

The kid claimed it was skipping dinner and a pair of herbal supplements that caused him to react so strongly to the drinks. Grissom, bored by the slow evening, noticed their suspect was roughly the same age and build as Greg.

An experiment had been inevitable.

Nick, unfortunately, chose to spend his break checking up on the progress of Greg's intoxication.

"Even Hodges thinks you're cute," Greg confided.

"I did not need to hear that!"

"See! You get that squirrelly-cheeked look when you're angry," Greg drawled, adding several extra syllables to 'squirrelly'. "Makes you look cute! Doesn't he look cute? Sara, back me up!"

"You are cute, Nick," she said, grinning when her colleague couldn't decide whether to be flattered or upset by her comment.

"See! Thank you, Sara. I knew I could count on you. You're the rebondable … the responded … the one we go to when we need something."

"Thanks, Greg," she said, fighting back a grin.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Nick said. "You are both so dead."

"Really? Wow. I feel good for being dead. You should try it," Greg said, nodding his head as he slid down the chair, giggling as Sara hauled him back up.

"Thanks, Sara."

"Don't mention it."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"Depends on the favor," she answered.

"Could you sing that Jimmy Buffet song for me?"

Sara grinned, "You mean 'wasted away again in Margaritaville, looking for my lost jigger' …"

"No, no. Not that one. 'Let's get drunk and … and …' Sara, what do we do after we get drunk?"

"Sorry, Greggo. If you're too drunk to remember, you're too drunk to do it."

"Oh. Do you think Grissom would help?" Greg asked, cocking his head when Sara blushed.

"Man, you are going to regret this," Nick said as he turned to walk away.

"Psssttttt. Grissom. Turn the camera that way. That's his best feature."

"Greg!"

"He's wasted, Nick," Sara said. "Don't get angry with him."

"Easy for you to say!"

"Don't get angry, Nicky. All the girls say you got a really cure, little tuck … a cute, liter tusk …"

"A cute, little ass," Sara supplied.

"That's it!"

"Grissom, turn that camera off now! You can't record Greg. He doesn't know what he's saying!" he yelled.

"Relax, Nick," Grissom responded, looking up from his crossword puzzle. "We need to document this."

"Squirrelly-cheeks!"

"Why? You proved the kid's story. Shut this off!" Nick insisted, fighting the urge to suck in his cheeks.

"Hehehehhehehehe. Squirrelly-cheeks!"

"Grissom!"

"Nick, calm down. Like you said, Greg doesn't know what he's saying."

"If I don't know what I'm saying, how can I say it?" a perplexed Greg asked, frowning deeply. "I mean, I _said_ it. The words came from my serry-belly … my sir-rib-be vortex … from my brain. Didn't it? I'm not speaking in tongues, am I?"

"No, Greg," Sara said, patting his shoulder to calm him down before fixing her supervisor with a harsh look. "Is this even ethical?"

"Greg volunteered," Grissom said, looking at her in confusion.

"Because he's afraid of you. And he wants to be a CSI," Sara added. "That's why you asked him."

"He could have said no. Besides, I'm giving him tomorrow off with pay. Think what a great paper this will make!"

"Do you even know what's in those supplements? No way Tox could have analyzed them by now," Sara pointed out, feeling smug when he looked momentarily concerned.

"Al's in the morgue," Grissom said, turning back to his puzzle.

"Yeah, but will Doc be coming up, or will Greg be going down?"

"I'll go down on you, Sara," he leered eagerly.

"In your dreams," she replied, giving Nick a warning glare as he tried to hold in his laughter.

"I know! All the time. Is that really you in my dreams with me? You are so … wowza!"

Sara blushed, taking some pleasure in noticing Grissom was turning an alarming shade of purple as he tried to hide behind his crossword puzzle.

"So, I hear Nick is the cute one," Catherine said, leaning against the doorway. "And Sara's wowza? Okay. What's Grissom then?"

"He's grumpy," Greg said in a loud stage whisper, holding his finger up to his lips. "Don't tell him I said that."

"I won't say a word. And what am I?" she asked.

"You're the stripper!"

"Ex-stripper, Greggo!"

"Well, you know what they say," he said.

"I do?"

"Uh, huh."

"Hold on," Grissom said, silencing the alarm on his watch. "Time for another drink, Greg."

"For me? You do care!" the younger man exclaimed, getting to his feet and wrapping his arms around Grissom's shoulders.

Grissom, startled by the unsuspected move, gave him a forced smile, then glared at the chortling CSIs watching.

"Hey, Greg, I don't know what they say. Why don't you tell me?" Nick asked, winking in Catherine's direction.

"They are hot! All that muscle control. They can make you …"

"Okay, Greg, I think that's enough," Catherine stated.

"Ohh! Hi, Catherine! Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, Greg, I did."

"Ooops! You gonna tie me up and whip me?"

"Not likely."

"Hey, does Grissom like that? 'Cause, you know he went to that domino … that domi … that Lady Heather's place," Greg said, tossing back his drink and rolling his head in the direction of the camera as Grissom's hand slapped the stop button.

"This experiment is over. Everyone get back to work. Now!" Grissom said, getting up to leave the room, but not before catching the lab tech's ending comment.

"Hey, Sara! I know a shop that sells that stuff. You can get your own whip! Whip Grissom into shape," Greg giggled as he slid to the floor.

Catherine and Sara turned to Nick. "Did you just squeal?"

**The End**


End file.
